


Season 9.04

by mallotovcocktail



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:17:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallotovcocktail/pseuds/mallotovcocktail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hasn't been doing very well since he forced Castiel to leave the bunker and Charlie intervenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Season 9.04

Dean hadn't noticed his "recovery" until yesterday. He'd never let himself think he had a problem, that his drinking wasn't a necessary evil of the job. Hunting people, saving things, drowning nightmares in liquor; the family business.

It's not like he's not functioning, it wasn't a problem, he just drank so that the demons in his mind didn't leak into his dreams. How was he supposed to hunt without adequate sleep? It was a necessary evil, as far as he thought.  
The thing is, he'd been sleeping well lately. He'd been sleeping through the night and not just when they stayed in the bunker; sleep would drag him under even when he was face down on a lint infested mothball blankets of the motel beds. His coffee was no longer spiked to chase away the bits of nightmare that followed him into the waking world.

He had been recovering.

So, why, he thought, was he currently drinking whiskey from the bottle. Why had his dreams suddenly returned with a vengeance, darker and guiltier than before? Why is he back to drowning himself in 40 proof?

The answer, of course, was Cas.

Well, not just, Cas; but Cas was the tipping point, the change. He'd kicked him out and while he could live without Cas (he's not pathetic, he'd down it for 30 odd years, damn it), the reason haunted his thoughts throughout the day. Ezekiel had required that Castiel leave, thrown Dean into the deep end and given him an ultimatum.

How was it that every supernatural creature seemed to know that he'd never be able to quit on Sam? And this wasn't permanent, as soon as Sammy was better, they'd bring Cas home.

In the meantime, Dean was suffering through his nightmares and keep on keeping on.

Charlie had been the first to notice, of course. Sam had mentioned the drinking but it was Charlie that noticed the reason.

She'd showed up at the bunker and they'd got royally distracted by Dorothy Gale. Yes, the Dorothy Gale. After they figured out what was going on, Charlie had sat him down at the kitchen table and looked him straight in the eyes.  
"Where's Cas?"

Dean shrugged, but decided that might appear to be too pointed. "Dunno."

Charlie raised her eyebrows.

"You don't know where your best friend is?"

Dean was chewing the inside of his cheek. "Nope," he stood and retreived a beer from the fridge, popping off the bottle cap. "Cas is a big boy, he can take care of himself."

"You said he was human now," Dean didn't remember telling her but that wasn't important.

"Yep," he took a large amount of beer into his mouth and let his eyes flutter closed as the liquid stung his throat. 

"Dean." Charlie took the bottle from his hand, which he found very rude, actually. "Sam is worried about you. He doesn't know why you're drinking again and he's afraid it has to do with him."

Dean started.

"Him? Why does he think that?"

Charlie shrugged. "Apparently you've been walking on egg shells around him and, he says, you kicked out Cas. Sam thinks... he says he feels like you blame him somehow." 

Fuck. Sam was smart, Dean knew that, but was Dean actually being that transparent? He stared at Charlie. What could he say? That the angel riding his brother like an amusement park attraction had forced him to kick his... to kick Cas out?

Charlie sighed, pouring the remaining beer down the sink.

"For some reason, you kicked Cas out. I'm willing to bet it has to do with your big gay identity crisis," Dean began to splutter, his what? "but you need to get over it. You're hurting yourself and your family and it's selfish. Do you think Castiel is happy out on his own?"  
Charlie waited for Dean to reply and when he didn't, wrapped her arms around him and told him she loved him.

"Just... be kind to yourself, OK?"

Charlie left later that night. Dean had shut off any excess emotional outlets in his mind and was numbly travelling through the evening. Finally, he said goodnight to Sammy, faking a spectacularly dazzling smile and retreated to his room and his memory foam mattress.

Dean woke with a start at 3 in the morning, images of Cas and Sam strung up on racks burning his retina. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, attempting, and failing, to rub away a particularly nasty memory of Alistair that morphed, halfway through, to Cas' hand slipping from his in purgatory. He wanted a drink, he knew a drink would help, would mute his mind and heart and stop himself from thinking. He knew a drink would make breathing simple again.

He gasped through the tension that was pushing in on his chest and fumbled with the contents of his bedside table. He opened his phone and held down speed dial 2.

When Cas had left, Dean had given him a phone; "for emergencies", Dean had covered. While the thought of calling the number had swum just below the line between conscious and subconscious thought for weeks, Dean had never actually entertained the idea. He knew it would hurt to hear Cas' voice, but nothing could be worse than the tightness he was currently feeling pull at his lungs.  
The phone rang exactly four times before the line crackled to life.

"Cas," Dean sighed, air, guilt, and fear rushing from his lungs.

"Hello, Dean."


End file.
